ASTARTES
"Aearn, just promise me you'll come back some day."
"I swear by my honor that I shall see you again, even if it is the last thing I shall ever do."
The words of his dream lingered as Trahaearn roused from his slumber, just as they had a thousand times before across countless restless nights.
"Always the same dream..."
His words were to no-one in particular despite possessing Arien by his side, his quarters empty of other company now that Tristan possessed his own living space. Trahaearn's voice was soft, being barely above a whisper, as he had no reason to particularly raise it since it was just an idle musing. A deep sorrow had gripped him, and try as he might he could not quell the feelings within him.
Eileithyia...
How many times had he dreamt of their parting? Of when he set out to the stars to join the ranks of the Iron Warriors, only to return to his world one day and find that everyone he had known was gone? Becoming a member of the Adeptus Astartes made one more than a mere mortal Human, but in the process one lost something as well...whereas some retained much of their Humanity, most grew detached from it and concepts such as family were replaced with feelings of brotherhood and duty.
Trahaearn had been so wrapped up in the Great Crusade and so blinded by his transformation into an Astartes that he had not looked back until it was already too late to do so. While his service under Forrix for the sake of Humanity's future was never something he would dare regret, so too would he always regret not also being able to fulfill his promise and return home to the woman he had loved since his earliest memories. Even now that such concepts as romantic love were foreign to him the attachment had managed to remain, and it was with a heavy heart that Jarn could never quite recall the finer details of her face and features when his eyes would wake from that very dream that haunted him.
There was little use in trying to drift to sleep again, for he knew from experience that it would continue to elude him after awaking in such a fashion. A dream born of a memory once forgotten but recalled upon his return to Kimara so many years ago, it was one of the few things that could truly evoke such feelings from him and they would continue to linger until he could cloud his mind with other thoughts and minutiae.
For this reason the Warsmith rose from his bed, softly so as to avoid awaking Arien, before seeking out a location upon the
Eisernen which always helped bring him peace of mind. Through this he found himself standing in a personal library he had compiled of technology and Human history, a location beside the Dodekatheon and available to its members so that they might possess as much knowledge as possible. While his personal writing was kept in his own quarters, or occasionally at his work station in the Dodekatheon, here lay the writings of others from what he could scavenge from Iron Warrior facilities over the years. Texts born from Perturabo's great mind were present as well, allowing for Jarn to have replicated so much of the Primarch's own technological innovations even if he could have never developed them on his own, such was Perturabo's mastery of technology.
By immersing himself in the thoughts and wisdom of others Jarn could possibly drown out the feelings of anguish deep within his soul, though as he entered the semi-private facility he knew immediately that he was not alone.
Restless nights were not unique to Jarn, as he had encountered Asier many times over the years at times when the other man ought to be resting instead taking care of tasks that could be left for the following day's events. That they were presently traveling through the Warp seemed to have something to do with it, and Trahaearn could not blame Asier for his unease: their shared distaste for it was part of why they worked so well together in fighting the servants of Chaos.
Asier was standing by a computer terminal, its light faintly reflecting off the dull grey and iron of his armor in the otherwise dimly lit room. Jarn had not bothered to turn the lights on yet, instead taking the moment to bask in the darkness afforded as it made it truly feel like there was night upon the vessel. As much as becoming an Astartes had changed him, Jarn still preferred for there to be darkness when it was time to rest one's body and mind.
From what the Warsmith could see Asier was contemplating records of the Imperium regarding Imperial Fist fortresses, and even without words passed between them each knew the other's reason for not being in their own quarters. This was not the first time they crossed paths like this, not even the first time in this very location, and so it went without remark. Instead Jarn took a seat by where Asier stood, deciding that instead of simply silencing the pangs in his heart and mind he could voice them to one of the few he felt he could entrust with them.
"I couldn't protect them. When they were in need, I wasn't there for them," Jarn spoke of the lingering sentiments of his dream, knowing that he had been unable to save either his family or his planet from what happened following the events of the Horus Heresy. Had circumstances been different he could have stood at their side and at least died fulfilling his vows, but such a fate was not to be.
Asier said nothing, but given his slight pause Jarn knew that the quiet soldier was listening intently. While Asier could be vocal when he wished to explore some topic or relay information, more often than not he was content keeping his thoughts to himself unless asked for them: it was this quality that made him a great sounding board for Jarn, who while capable of stoicism himself was once groomed for leadership of a world and thus taught from an early age to clearly and accurately express himself to others. Kimara was not a den of vipers to hide one's thoughts from, at least not back then, instead being a place where direct action and sentiment was both expected and appreciated.
"What good is power if it cannot be used to protect what matters most to you? My closest kin deceased, my homeworld fallen, the Iron Warriors shattered, the Imperium in ruins...what did that make me, who swore my life to serving and protecting each of them? For what purpose did I continue to fight, to survive when all else had been lost?"
Jarn looked down at his own hands before him, taking in a deep breath as he continued to speak to his observant ally.
"For some time I was plagued by these doubts, until I realized that my survival was its own answer," his gaze lifted to where Asier stood, his voice resolute as he spoke, "So long as I live, not
all was lost, for whatever else I might be I remain an Iron Warrior to my very core. While I stand strong in the face of the darkness that surrounds us I may still protect those who need me, I may protect Humanity from its own excess and fault, and I may seek the utopia that was once sought by not only my Primarch but our Emperor as well."
Asier returned his gaze, only offering a nod in return. While he did not often say as much, it was this nature of Jarn's which saw Asier join him as it offered a way forward for Humanity, should Jarn's ambitions be realized. While not wholly breaking for the typical mold for an Iron Warrior, what truly separated Jarn in Asier's perspective was the willingness to see past numbers and look past grievances to see a bigger picture. While they held some differences in opinion, in goal he and the Warsmith were entirely aligned, seeking not only their own survival and prosperity but that of Humanity itself. They would see to the Emperor's will, even if his actual servants did not.
"My mother...my father...my wife...my child...they are gone, and nothing can bring them back to me," Jarn admitted sorrowfully, knowing that the pain within him was something he would never be able to erase nor should he. What made it difficult however was his status as an Astartes, for the changes to his mind were something he was entirely aware of, "You can ask me of a calculation I did centuries ago and I can tell you the minutiae to as many decimals as you please...but after all this time I can barely remember the faces of those who meant everything to me."
It was perhaps this regret that saw Jarn raise both Levente and later Tristan as if they were sons of his, for he was intent on not taking family for granted now that he had realized firsthand how fleeting life could be. Perhaps training them day-in and day-out was not particularly fatherly, but then again perhaps it was. He had never gotten the opportunity to raise his own child, so he simply was doing what he felt was best for the two Neophytes as well as the Iron Legion. They had a home now where they had once been deprived of one thanks to the ravages of the forty-first millennium, and for that he was content. If they could live on and improve upon what he built then perhaps more meaning could be brought to Jarn's own survival against countless threats, be they Human or otherwise.
All of this did not truly mend the pain within, but there was a way for Jarn to feel as if he was properly honoring the memory of those lost due to his own negligence. While his kin could no longer fight for their dreams Jarn could still hold up their mantle and do so in their honor, so that even in death their shared vision could be realized.
"They lived and died for a vision of a better world, one where our people could live and prosper without fear of the galaxy beyond. That one day we might too be able to reach out to the stars and shape them in our very image. Never again will I know the comfort of their company, but I can live on and see to it that their deaths were not in vain. That, even if no one else remembers who they were as individuals, I can carry their dreams forward," he opined to Asier, who he knew would understand the feeling he spoke of. Those who lived as long as they had while retaining their Humanity were the only ones who could truly grasp the weight and burden it placed upon them to see everyone they cared for perish or disappear into the sands of time, never again to rise and stand beside them. That shared sense of loss had helped solidify their partnership, being a shared sensation derived from their common Humanity for all of their so-called superhuman nature.
It took a moment, a lifetime of calculations for the brilliant Asier, before the man spoke in a soft tone, "If you wish I could tell you of your world. Of what transpires."
There was no hesitation in response for even though the temptation was great Jarn's pragmatism overrode its alluring nature, knowing himself well enough to understand that it would be the ruination of his Iron Legion to accept.
"Only when the time comes that we are ready to retake Kimara will I cast my gaze upon it. Any sooner and my sentimentality will force me to return sooner than we may succeed," Jarn shook his head, knowing that he was doing what he had to do but regretting his inability to return all the same, "Resources, production capability, Fabius Bile's experimentation, and finally the reclamation of our Gene Seed. Until we complete each of these objectives any attempt we make at reclaiming our world will fail eventually. Our actions must be measured and excised of flaws if we are to one day reach utopia."
The very defenses he once built upon Kimara were what now held him at bay, a fitting albeit cruel irony he felt, for he had built the world to be impenetrable from outside forces should it be fully manned. Had the Imperial Fists not used their full Legion's might when Kimara's population was not enough to properly man its stations the world would have bled the Fists and the Imperium long before they came across the Iron Cage, but that was no longer a consideration: barring some mass population exodus down the line the Kimara of today would no doubt possess what it needed to repel any invader.
His personal ties to the leadership of Kimara perhaps would allow Jarn to smooth things over, but the planet's stubborn loyalty was both its strength and its downfall. They presently served the Imperium and would no doubt die to the last fighting for it, so it was a requirement that the Iron Warriors prepare for a full campaign that would ensure the planet's eventual submission without destroying both its people and the Astartes seeking to join them. The calculations and preparations for this were innumerable and many decades would be required to reach that point, but Jarn was nothing if not patient: it came from being a seasoned commander of the Iron Warriors in the Great Crusade where siege warfare could drag on for ages before victory was eventually achieved.
Jarn just had to make certain that they would one day reach that point, and for that he would continue to lead his men forward.
Just because he worked in perfect synchronicity with Jarn did not mean Asier did not ever possess a different thought, and much like how Perturabo once enjoyed discussing strategy and tactics with his Dodekatheon before paranoia drove them apart so too did Jarn enjoy discussing with Asier the finer points of their operations. It was only by playing devil's advocate and exploring alternatives in both action and viewpoint that the correct course to take could be determined, and for this Asier was a vital given his intellect.
"Utopia goals are counterintuitive to a species' survival. Ambition that is inherently impossible is ultimately corrupting, for one cannot hope to engender, or force to be engendered, a state of perfection," Asier stated not as an opinion, but rather as a fact because the flawed nature of Humanity was not something any could deny, "Therein lies the seeds of disaster, for perfection is an absolute that cannot be attained by an imperfect species. In this way utopia is naught but a dangerous myth and a fool's errand to chase, for it is better to manage and maintain the flaws of man on an ongoing basis than expect it to rise above its true potential."
Jarn nodded, accepting Asier's thoughts rather than balking at them because they had spoken along these lines before and Jarn knew that their viewpoints did not truly diverge: rather Asier desired the pragmatic outcome of what
could be achieved rather than seeking for things beyond his reach, and on this point the Warsmith was completely in agreement. While the Iron Warriors and Perturabo had spoken of 'Utopia' once upon a time it was not truly actual perfection they sought, but rather their own subjective viewpoint of what the world ought to be like even if by other measures some could find it imperfect. To Jarn that dream the Iron Warriors possessed was actually obtainable, and even within their reach, so long as they continued striving towards it.
"Seeking actual perfection is the path of Slaanesh and the folly of the Emperor's Children. But in truth the utopia we seek is not the utopia of definition, but rather that of our own conceit: a state of being where we are capable of not only surviving, but thriving. Where we have quelled the existential threats within our domain to conquer, and where we are able to build rather than only destroy. A world where our lives possess meaning and value beyond what can be quantified in raw data. To overcome and endure is to be an Iron Warrior, and my men could not envision a world without such hardship, but it is my purpose to lead them towards the light that is existing beyond such concepts."
Asier nodded, adding, "When faced with extinction every alternative is preferable, and for that the ends justify the means."
Jarn was in agreement, demonstrating the key difference between the Iron Warriors and the hopelessly idealistic and dogmatic Imperial Fists, "But even so, the means must not spoil the end."
They would fight tooth and nail and use everything they had at their disposal to find victory, but some things were not to even be considered as a part of their toolkits: there was no point in achieving victory if it meant bowing down to Chaos and its corruptive influence. To do so would mean sacrificing the actual goal for a poor substitution, becoming the tools and vessels of others once again where Jarn had sworn to his men that they would never again be the pawns of those who would use them.
Underhanded tactics, callous disregard for life both for one's foe and one's allies, unrelenting sieges, these were all necessary and did not sacrifice their goal. So long as their goal was reached it did not matter if puritans thought them devious, for it was better to succeed and be demeaned by one's foes than to die playing by the rules one's foes dictated.
It was thanks to this that Asier was in full agreement with Jarn even if his words might indicate a point of contention, as they saw the world in the same way even if some finer details could be argued between them, "Just so."
The Warsmith entrusted Asier with tasks no other could accomplish, knowing that with no questions asked that his ally would see to their completion. Jarn did not inquire how Asier did his work so long as it was done, the sole rule between them being that nothing done or gained would possess the taint of Chaos. Given his own unrest regarding the Warp this was something that went without saying for Asier, whose distaste for the Ruinous Powers perhaps eclipsed Jarn's own. The Warsmith had little doubt that Asier was manipulating the tools of Chaos to his own ends, but rather than toying with them directly he would have their actions serve his own goals from afar before cutting their strings and seeing to their complete destruction and ruination.
Such was the fate the servants of Chaos deserved, and so long as it did not come back to bite them Jarn was fine to allow their foes to unwittingly destroy one another for the Iron Legion's benefit. It allowed the Iron Warriors to stay one step ahead, and in this way Asier was of irreplaceable value to them. He would ask Asier to carry out certain tasks and they would be done, and in return sometimes Asier would come to him with a request that he in turn would fulfill. While it may sound foolish to entrust one's life to someone as secretive as this particular 'Iron Warrior' tasked with covert operations, Jarn knew that he had nothing to fear from Asier given their shared purpose and values. They each required the other to do what needed to be done, and so they worked in seamless tandem.
That shared trust and loyalty allowed for Jarn to ask something as he sat in the darkness of the room, looking up once again to ask a minute detail about Kimara that could give Jarn peace of mind until the day came that they returned.
"Tell me one thing: does my lineage continue?"
Another pause followed at first before Asier eventually gave a nod yes, not speaking a word lest Jarn feel the need to return home and save what remained of his family line from the Imperium. The Warsmith was unaware of the fairly recent rise of power of the Conomors, and had he heard of the purges which followed there was little doubt that he would do as he spoke of and feel the need to return home before he was ready.
Jarn knew as much himself by his own admission, but by giving him this small piece of accurate information his fears could be quelled for now and their operation could continue without issue. While some might consider it a lie by omission, it was what Jarn was looking for and what Asier knew to give in return.
Accepting the confirmation at face value, Jarn nodded in return, allowing his head to hang down as he tried once more to remember what Eileithyia had looked like. Beyond her raven hair and ivory skin he remembered little, try as he might, for he could scarcely remember the necklace he gave her as a parting gift just like her actual features.
A statue commemorating the two of them had been erected upon Kimara, giving the Warsmith hope that once he returned home he could fulfill his promise in spirit even if not in word.
Perhaps then the dreams which haunted him would come to an end.
__________________________________________________________________________________________________________
When the restless night ended Jarn found himself drawn to the training grounds of his Neophytes, intent on observing them as a way of looking forward rather than stewing in thoughts of what had once transpired. Ossus greeted him, the Apothecary ready to tend to the wounds of his trainees if needed but seemingly content by the way things were going: the Neophytes were sparring with one another in free time allotted to them to allow for them to do what they believed necessary to further themselves, and so Ossus' presence was more a safety net than a necessary factor. For this reason Jarn found the Apothecary painting upon an easel while still wearing his Power Armor, the finesse allowed for by their Black Carapaces enabling Ossus to engage in one of his many hobbies without issue.
It was inspiring for Jarn to see an Iron Warrior in part living up to the ideals, for while they were disposed towards siegecraft it had been the hopes and dreams of Iron Warriors in years past to be able to create rather than destroy. Ossus was limited by what supplies they came across to partake in such activities, but the Apothecary made it work as best as he could, and in this instance was painting what was shaping up to be the very vessel they were upon in all its beauty. After all, a magnificently crafted vessel was something of inherent allure to the members of the Iron Warriors, and so it was a worthy endeavor to see the
Eisernen immortalized in such a fashion.
Beyond where Ossus sat were nine Neophytes rather than the full ten, with Jarn having a good idea where the last of them was at that moment and thus not worrying about Tristan's absence from this recreational set of duels between Neophytes.
Of the Neophytes in Alpha Squad perhaps only Gunnar could provide a decent sparring partner for Levente, such was the young man's natural talent that was bolstered by his completed Gene Seed transplants. In some ways Levente was held back by being a part of the squad despite being comprised of some of the best recruits the Iron Legion had managed to come across (not that it particularly had ideal circumstances to find them), for if he was alone Levente could very well serve as a member of the Astartes and accomplish much if he was let loose.
It was that very fact that saw Jarn continue to keep him tied down with others behind him in development and experience, as everything had always been too easy for Levente. He might not possess the greatest mind Jarn had ever witnessed, but the boy was still quick-witted and it was not until Tristan's arrival that Levente was completely overshadowed in terms of intelligence. Levente might not be able to best Jarn's veteran Astartes yet, but for someone not officially a member of their ranks yet he still left a mark in whatever duels he participated in thanks to his mixture of raw might and instinctual understanding of his foes and ability to read them almost supernaturally.
He truly was gifted, and if allowed to forge on ahead the young Levente might believe himself invincible. He might be one in a thousand as far as Astartes go or even rarer in terms of potential, but he would find himself surrounded by those incapable of keeping up with him since not every soldier was so talented. Jarn had little doubt that every group of Astartes had their own promising pupil like Levente, and it was in recognizing that talent early on that Jarn had been able to help it blossom. Just as important as the skills an Astartes developed however were those of the Astartes beside them in battle, for the unforgiving universe they lived within gave no quarter and death lurked behind each of them waiting for the smallest opportunity to strike.
If Levente could be humbled by working alongside those less capable than him and truly understand their worth rather than just his own he would be a capable commander some day, leading from the front and inspiring his forces with not only charisma but through displays of great heroism and strength.
If he couldn't...well, Jarn hoped things would not come to that, as he cared for his students as much as he could allow himself to. It would be a shame to see Levente bring about his own ruination, and so Jarn continued to do what he could to guide the boy towards his promising future. Just as Jarn would have to instill in Tristan ambition so the boy would not sit on the sidelines and squander his own talent like Jarn once had, so too would the Warsmith have to temper the flames of Levente's own ambitions. Where Levente had issue seeing beyond himself and thus had his vision at times clouded, Tristan was always thinking too much about things and even had devised statistical representations of his fellow Neophytes directly comparing their attributes with one another.
Taking action was important, but action taken with reckless haste or glacial contemplation would both lead to ruin...if only the two were not so different in mind that they detested having to deal with the other, or they might learn from one another's strengths. That rivalry drove them to even greater lengths to outdo the other however, so it was not without its own form of merit and Jarn accepted it even if it meant his two understudies each refused to spend any more time than necessary around the other.
Soon they would be serving as actual Astartes and Jarn's direct influence would lessen as they entered into the general ranks of his forces where they would have their own duties and missions to carry out, so it was important for him to impart some of his wisdom before the chances to do so lessened.
As one might expect Levente had little trouble wiping the floor with each of the other Neophytes, his broad shoulders remaining rigid as he carried himself with pride after knocking Dominicus clear off his feet in a single mighty blow. Each of the Neophytes now stood as tall as any Astarte or even taller in the case of some such as Tristan, but even with their massive forms Levente was still able to wrangle them and move them with brute strength reflective of Jarn's own at his age. Even as the others gained superhuman strength they still were unable to overpower the slab of muscle that was Levente, whose growth had been outward in the form of his musculature rather than upwards like many of the others.
Truth be told Levente's height was the bare minimum of Astartes, barely being taller than merely above average Kimarans given the typical height of those on Jarn's homeworld, but in sheer mass he was only in competition with the colossal Tristan who while thin had the height Levente lacked in spades. Overall size allowed Levente to throw his weight around quite literally, bashing aside full grown Astartes like rag dolls when he would on occasion duel them, and he was already gaining a reputation within the Iron Legion for this very fact.
While he could throw Tristan around just as easily however the height difference between them made it more difficult for Levente to properly grapple with his rival, so the physical contests they would have on occasion were not as one-sided as one might otherwise expect: while Levente was incredibly strong, with Tristan his own frame afforded him a greater deal of toughness that even Levente could not match. Like always they were opposites, and it only drove them to bash heads (sometimes literally) all the more.
Soon after the crushing defeat of Dominicus the Neophytes broke apart to allow for some rest between their matches, granting Jarn the opportunity to approach Levente without interruption from the others. Jarn had no issue with his other Neophytes and in fact was keeping close tabs on them all, but this was a conversation meant for Levente and so he made certain to bring his pupil aside so that they would not be overheard.
Levente abided by Jarn's direction as one might expect, bowing his head in subservience as his Warsmith and keeping it bowed even after moving away from the other trainees just to show how dutiful and reverent he was.
Ignoring the gesture, Jarn spoke of what Levente could expect from the coming days, for his time as a Neophyte was finally coming to a close, "When Ossus gives his seal of approval you will not be returning to join Urkamus, Grund, and the others like before. With your prior fieldwork you do not need his guidance, nor is his skillset useful for developing your own moving forward."
"What would you have me do, Warsmith?"
"I will be leaving the specifics to Khyr, the Company Commander I entrust with ending sieges. Shock tactics, line breaking, you will learn from him how to bring a swift end to conflicts efficiently, doing what he says and asks of you without question. If you are to charge a battle line without reinforcements you will do as told. Every operation you partake in will be one which comes with the risk of your very life, and if need be you will be expected to lay down your life for our cause."
Having briefly looked up in awe at the Warsmith, Levente quickly set about bowing both his head and body as he pledged himself to the Iron Legion's cause once more.
"Of course. Anything you ask of me I shall do without a moment's hesitation. My life is yours, now and always, just as I swore on my homeworld. I will follow you to the gates of death, fighting until my last breath for the one to whom I owe everything. At your command I shall decimate our foes and bring triumph to the Iron Warriors, for the strong survive and the weak shall not be permitted to thrive!"
Sensing the seeds of arrogance in Levente's tone, Jarn sighed as he was forced to drudge up old memories once again to teach his student an important lesson.
"The Decimation was no triumph, simply a labor I once endured to survive. To kill one's fellow Astarte, even in self-defense, is naught but a reflection of how far we have strayed from the Emperor's vision of a unified Humanity."
Once, when he was a younger man, Jarn had been awoken at night by the dreams of the slaughter he had been forced to commit...now he no longer was under the grips of such grief for the loss of his comrades, instead solemnly resigned to the knowledge that he had done what he had to do and that in doing so he had been able to save countless more lives among his Iron Warrior kin than the nine he slew with his bare, bloodied hands.
"It is Human nature to hesitate when one's morals are brought into question. Had my brothers been firmer, had they not at least partially questioned the decree of our Gene Father I never would have survived. That merit of theirs, of understanding that our Primarch was asking them to commit a grievous sin, was what killed them in the end."
That glint of doubt was what allowed Jarn to rally others on Olympia when similarly questionable orders were passed down, Forrix looking the other way to allow Jarn to take those he could who could not carry out Perturabo's wrath. It took convincing from someone who would become one of his closest allies within the Iron Legion, but that event had set Jarn upon the path he now tread and given him the ambition to fulfill the ambitions of the Iron Warriors in his own way.
If only his nine Battle Brothers he was forced to slay could have joined them.
"Had they survived until the fall of Olympia they would be here beside us now, being those among our brethren who could will themselves perhaps to ignore the orders passed down to them. It was simple misfortune that they had to be chosen alongside me as a part of our unit of ten for the Decimation, and I mourn their deaths as much as any of the others who have fallen for our cause," Jarn spoke sorrowfully to his pupil, hoping to impress the true weight of that day rather than the glorious tales his men shared about their commander.
"One stepped forward, and without a moment's thought I crushed his skull in my hands. His blood splashed upon me, but by then a second had moved past his uncertainty and so I struck again. They were to beat me to death, and few among the Iron Warriors could hope to harm one as large as I with their bare hands...but even so nine could accomplish such a task, for they were Astartes and I was but one."
In the conflicts he had endured Jarn had killed countless many, but it was when he had to turn his strength upon his own comrades at the order of his Primarch that made him question it all. He did not regret surviving, nor that his instincts to live had been honed from his earliest days, but he wished that he could have done so alongside those thrown away at the whim of Perturabo.
"My world knows no mercy. For the years I spent on it that simple truth was instilled on me each and every day...the first time I saw a man die I was no older than five, a Yormungaros striking our mining convoy and taking one of my father's most trusted workers within its jaws," Jarn explained to Levente, whose attention was completely honed in to each and every word his leader was speaking, "As capable as he was as a member of our staff, he had grown slow with age, and so when it was inevitable that we would be overtaken my father left him behind. A cruel fate perhaps, and one he was loathe to do, but necessary so that the rest of us might survive."
Kimara's brutality held its very own sort of beauty as Forrix once suggested, though as a child it had been difficult to appreciate its finer points when faced with the gaping maw of the Yormungaros.
"Once its first victim was consumed it gave chase for another, and another, until half our number were gone. I only survived until then because I was carried by the convoy itself as a passenger, riding with our equipment. With the proper maneuvering my father was able to force the beast into a trap, detonating charges meant for the mines instead upon the vile serpent and turning our mining lasers upon the wounds opened."
While shorter in range, the mining equipment possessed throughout the Imperium was similar to Lascannons in raw strength and so proper application of them to the small openings made spelled the downfall of the Yormungaros. Had things even been the slightest bit different that would have been the end of all of them, and so the sacrifice of half their number was accepted by all without question. It simply was the risk of day to day life on such a Death World, though as a lasting effect it helped inspire Jarn to build the defenses of Kimara to the point that the planet was essentially impossible to conquer given it possessed a proper garrison.
"Those born to fairer circumstances may have been capable warriors in their own rights, but it cost them in the end. Survival comes first so long as one does not forsake their purpose and goals, for without survival we are unable to realize those ideals," Jarn clenched his fists that he could still imagine the blood upon even centuries later, "So I killed the first who came at me, the second, and then the third and fourth when they charged together..."
Levente remained quiet, recognizing the grief of his leader while not sharing it as a result of his divergent worldview based entirely on strength: those who fought Jarn and perished were weak, so why mourn the loss of those so pathetic as to lose with overwhelming odds? Such was a mindset one could find throughout many Iron Warriors which was why he had already proven popular among some veterans within Jarn's fleet, but it was not a view which Jarn shared for obvious reasons.
Jarn continued with his wistful reminiscence, "As nine they could fell me without issue. As nine, eight, six, four, and then one they could not. Perhaps honor prevented some from engaging in such coordinated tactics, or perhaps fear at being ordered to slay the strongest among them kept those of questionable willpower from throwing their lives away so brazenly since they saw what I had done to the first. Any number of factors would have played a part in my survival, but by the end all that mattered was that I still stood, battered and bloodied, while they lay dead at my feet."
If Jarn had not been born as a member of his family, if the countless brushes with death in everyday life on early-Kimara had gone differently, if the Iron Warriors had not visited his world, if Forrix had not taken notice of him, if the Great Crusade had claimed his life as it had countless others, if the Horus Heresy had done so, if, if, if...there was so much uncertainty in their world, and it was by fortune alone that they all still survived when others just as capable perished. But fortune was capricious, and Jarn sought to do whatever he could to mitigate its influence over him now that he had the power to dictate his fate, and he hoped that his students would do the same.
"Our lives are fleeting, comprised of an untold myriad of coincidences and happenstances that shape who we are where if one slight divergence occurred the strings of life would be cut. Had one bullet flown differently, one more blade found its mark, one detonation caused a chain reaction upon a vehicle, had my world simply gone unheeded by the Iron Warriors, none of this would be possible. Every one of us is the amalgamation of the circumstances which we have survived and endured to reach the point we are at, and it is by that very truth that we must continue to strive forward in spite of them."
Jarn placed a hand down upon Levente's shoulder as he came to the end of what he wanted to say before then departing, "Remember that as you prepare for your looming final examination: all it can take is one mistake and you will never receive the chance of facing another. Death awaits us all and is an unforgiving mistress, so be vigilant and act accordingly."
"Understood, Warsmith!"
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"I am not surprised to find you here while the others are sparring."
Tristan did not look up from his workstation in the Dodekatheon to greet the Warsmith, so honed was he on the circuitry he was piecing together and welding for his next intellectual pursuit. It was not out of disrespect or lack of reverence, for Tristan near worshipped Jarn for all the Warsmith had done for him, it was simply that suddenly placing down what he was working on and stopping would damage the fragile pieces he was working on and so snapping to attention would be a doubly inefficient waste of time.
Proving the boy's faith in him, Jarn did not take offense to the lack of 'proper' greeting and instead took interest in what the Neophyte had surrounded himself with in his own personal piece of their Legion's top workshop. It had only made sense to give Tristan his own place to work as Jarn's own workplace was sometimes in use by the Warsmith himself, and this way Tristan could experiment on his own rather than just work with whatever Jarn had handy.
"My aptitude for close combat is average at best, my time is better spent here," Tristan explained as to why he did not join the others in their recreational sparring exercise, showing an acknowledgement of his own limits as well as his strengths.
Jarn approved of his apprentice's decision, having in the past made similar choices for there was no use in training his own raw speed such was Jarn's general mass and the weight of the armor he had to bear. Pursuing pointless endeavors was a waste of time, an inefficiency that could be so easily replaced by a more productive cause, and so Jarn made vocal his support of Tristan.
"So long as your other skills do not atrophy then focusing on your strengths is a wise usage of your days."
The boy was different from Levente in innumerable ways, and while Levente was no doubt honing his finesse in close combat as they spoke such an effort would be wasted upon Tristan. This was not to say Tristan was weak by any means, as despite his slight build for a future member of the Adeptus Astartes he had already grown to possess a height matching Jarn's own and seemed to be growing ever taller. Jarn knew of some Astartes growing to heights even beyond his own and believed Tristan would one day join their ranks, the natural result of someone who would have already towered above other Humans being made into an Astartes.
This significant size gave Tristan a strength of his own, for while he lacked the same raw might as Levente he still possessed an overall increased mass compared to almost all other Astartes resulting from his height and Astartes musculature. Ossus once had to treat Kastor after the latter had charged Tristan who in return dug his heels in and stood firm against the charge, the result of which was Kastor wiping himself out on Tristan and tumbling away from the giant he had charged. Possessing greater reach than others was also a benefit, and one Tristan had been keen to learn how to use in his favor by favoring spears and utilizing leverage in combat when forced to engage with a foe without access to weapons.
Like Jarn however there came a cost at possessing such a height, and that was that Tristan was simply too slow to properly keep up with his fellow recruits. His stride was quick and long, so unencumbered he was capable of running just fine, but the weight of the armor he would have to bear greatly outstripped that of his fellow Neophytes. It afforded him great protection since his lithe body allowed for extra defenses to be incorporated into the structure due to the space not dedicated to housing a surfeit of muscles. This protection combined with Tristan's physical stature made him a true juggernaut in combat exercises, even if he did not particularly get anywhere swiftly as one would expect of an Astartes.
Jarn would know, having crafted Tristan's first set of Power Armor himself. Someone had to make the custom suit after all, as there was no way for Tristan to fit into a typical set of Power Armor just as Jarn had never been able to. At nearly twice the age he recruited Tristan at the boy had already reached his height while Levente had grown a set of muscles that would match Jarn's own, the combination of which would equal Jarn's own considerable form that granted him the power to crush the skulls of other Astartes bare-handed. The boys he took under his wing had required specialized armor to properly fit them and so Jarn had gone to the effort of crafting it to play to their strengths, granting Tristan durability whereas Levente's emphasized speed.
Their highly divergent physiques did not only grant them benefits however, as Tristan's height made him an easier target whereas Levente's breadth similarly afforded a wider form to strike. While Tristan was slowed by his height, Levente had some of his raw potential for close combat mitigated by the reality of his form, not preventing him from being the monster he was in close combat but all the same making his movements more telegraphed than they might otherwise be.
The subjects of Tristan's interest were well apparent from a cursory glance at the workshop, for unlike certain other stations in the Dodekatheon the Neophyte's own was meticulously labeled and organized such that everything was exactly where it ought to be at all times. While it could be attributed to Tristan's naturally fastidious manner of handling everything he did, in truth it was a result of him mirroring Jarn's own efficient workplace that saw the boy arrange everything so precisely. Thanks to this Jarn was able to see Tristan's first experimentations with the inner workings of Power Armor, beside which rested preliminary tests of Refractor Fields with a focus on overlapping their capabilities, while beyond there lay dissected servo-arms and mechadendrites/mechatendrils, and pinned to a board were vehicle schematics of Basilisks, Xiphon Interceptors, and other such important cogs in their war machine.
While some technically minded Astartes would focus on one particular field of interest it was a reaffirmation of Jarn's own beliefs about Tristan's mind to see that the Neophyte was already studying so many different technological fields. Tristan was not yet capable of producing and truly creating things on par with the veteran members of the Dodekatheon and it would be many years before he could even hope to, but he was spending all his time on improving and learning from those who came before him since there were no secrets kept between members of Jarn's Dodekatheon in regards to technology and development. That was why it was an open environment with various forges and workspaces that could be freely traveled between, allowing for the free dissemination of information between its members to better allow them to improve their own work.
This said, Jarn would choose to overlook that Tristan had also seemingly devoted some of his time into creating miniature model representations of the forces he used in the Dodekatheon's wargames which Tristan was steadily improving his capability for through route trial and error. By testing enough times Tristan was learning every possible permutation and outcome for various scenarios, which allowed him to better plan ahead for them in later matches even if he lost the initial one.
His tactics remained simple in nature by focusing on overwhelming firepower, but in that simplicity lay an effective method of victory for it had few things that could go wrong and did not rely on complicated factors to overcome one's foe: either the firepower was sufficient to wipe out the foe it faced, or it was not, and it was for this reason that Jarn had faith in Tristan's potential elsewhere: while the boy would no doubt be perfectly content to sit in a workshop for centuries studying and improving whatever technology caught his fancy, his growing tactical acumen and his understanding of complex calculations allowing him to hit targets he fired at almost every time he fired a bullet meant Tristan could hold his own on the battlefield even if someone like Levente could run circles around him in close combat.
What caught Jarn's attention in particular however was that Tristan had a dissected machine before him that no longer resembled whatever it had once been, and the precise wiring and soldering Tristan was doing was being done to replicate what it was he had before him as reference. Jarn's own manuals and records were present too, a page open to Jarn's examinations of Perturabo's own creations that Jarn had studied at length to replicate for himself long ago. Even after parting ways with the main Iron Warrior fleet in the Horus Heresy it had been a fascination of Jarn's to follow their technological developments, discarding those reliant upon the Warp or other such sorcery while taking whatever else he could to strengthen his own forces.
"What is it that you are working on?" Jarn questioned out of curiosity, for Tristan's current project was the only one with no clear subject matter. Tristan's current experimental subject was not like the Power Armor which was obviously dissected, or a mechadendrite just laying in a specified place for examination, but rather the innards of something that no longer resembled whatever they had once been since they had been broken down as much as Tristan could manage to allow for individual study of each piece.
Tristan continued working, still unperturbed by the fact his Warsmith was looming over his shoulder, "Iron Circle."
Jarn wanted him to learn and study all he could, and so he was following the directive given to him without second thoughts or further questioning: he might not loudly proclaim his loyalty and reverence of Jarn every opportunity like Levente might, but the very same respect was there and was why he did not bother to pry himself from his work to socialize beyond what was necessary in this instance. It would just be inefficient to stand on ceremony given how much Jarn disliked it anyways, and there was work to be done to fulfill Jarn's expectations of him, so of course he was going to be as terse and blunt as possible.
The Iron Circle he spoke of was one of Perturabo's later creations in the Horus Heresy, a series of machines crafted to serve as his bodyguards after the most humiliating loss for the Iron Warriors in that era. Known as the Battle of the Phall System, the Iron Warriors had fought the Imperial Fists and despite possessing superior number and leadership they ultimately failed both tactically and strategically: the battle ended in the favor of the Iron Warriors, but it was a pyrrhic victory which saw the Imperial Fists even board Perturabo's ship in an assault which saw him lose faith in his own men. Driven by paranoia the Primarch of the Fourth Legion would create the Iron Circle, machines whose loyalty was absolute and who could be controlled directly by Perturabo himself without tiring.
Such was the effectiveness of the Iron Circle that when deployed by Perturabo in the days leading up to the Siege of Terra they were able to assist him in open combat against the Daemon Primarch Angron, for Perturabo had been tasked with dragging the World Eaters' deranged and insubordinate figurehead to the conflict whether Angron wished to partake or not. The conflict with Perturabo saw Angron humiliated to his patron god Khorne as Perturabo dragged out the battle, tanking what blows and strikes he could from Angron without flinching while their forces battled one another around them. Through disciplined fire the Iron Warriors wiped out the World Eaters who fought them like rabid beasts driven by the madness of the Butchers Nails afflicting them, while the Iron Circle through similarly coordinated gunfire and action were able to wear Angron down bit by bit as Perturabo held Angron at bay.
With Khorne's favor lessening with each humiliating moment in the battle eventually Angron was so withered that he was bested by Perturabo, who while wounded was ultimately the victor through attrition. The immense strength and power afforded by the lord of blood and murder himself, the almighty Chaos God Khorne, was unable to overcome sheer tactical capability when crossed with technological might, and so it was decided that Angron would partake in the coming siege. If the Iron Circle could be used to help quell a Daemon Primarch then they were worthy of observation and study, and so Tristan had broken down a damaged member of their ranks to learn from. While initially Perturabo's bodyguards, eventually he had developed so many of their ranks that the Iron Circle could be found deployed as forces of their own even without their creator's presence...so widespread did they become in fact that whispers would be spoken about Perturabo's creations being used to spy on his soldiers, for as the war raged on the Primarch grew increasingly paranoid by the day.
Since Jarn himself had made this one though the threat of it being a Chaos spy was zero, and so Tristan saw no issue in toying with the machine like any of the other broken down technology kept by the Dodekatheon for further study and experimentation.
"It will be many years before you are capable of crafting true battle automata," Jarn wryly noted, knowing both that something of this level was well beyond what Tristan was capable of crafting at this point in time but also quite certain that the boy would get there some day.
Tristan would have shrugged if he was not preoccupied with replicating the circuitry before him down to the last minute detail, growing his understanding and comprehension by actually engaging with the subject of his inquiry, "We all must start somewhere."
"Allow me to lend a hand."
Having been the one to construct the damaged Domitar-Ferrum class battle-automata, better known as a member of the Iron Circle, Jarn was able to walk Tristan through on much of its minutiae while building off of various concepts the boy had become familiar with from Jarn's journals. In a tinge of irony the haste necessary for the deployment on Tristan's world saw Jarn deploy without his machine cohort, as they had been in need of repairs after a brutal conflict with Imperial forces and the time it would take to make them operational again would have lowered the chances Jarn had of reaching the Fallen in time. Fate had it that he could not arrive in time for the recovery of Castiel's comrades, but that time bought allowed for Jarn to recover Tristan before the Word Bearers would have slain the boy.
Perhaps it had been reckless to deploy without the giant behemoths tasked with guarding him, but Jarn's technological edge over his opponents and raw strength had seen him return nigh unscathed regardless. Asier and Castiel had both chided him in the days after citing the importance of his survival, but Jarn brushed their concerns aside because he had calculated the risks correctly, though he was not so arrogant as to believe himself invulnerable to harm. The Iron Circle belonging to him had since been repaired or replaced as needed and had accompanied him into the field since, though their size made them cumbersome in boarding actions. Armed with Graviton Mauls, Olympia Bolt Cannons, and Karceri Battle Shields, they were capable of battling even a Primarch on an open field but the size that afforded their strength was more often than not in the way in confined spaces like the interior of a ship.
Olympia Bolt Cannons were designed to possess higher caliber rounds than Heavy Bolters as well as an increased rate of fire, and since they were designed to be mass produced with ease like all of the Iron Circle parts replicating them had been an easy task for Jarn. For this reason they could be found throughout his forces even as a part of their infantry squads, possessing an edge over other groups without access to them.
Tristan in particular seemed interested in them, though he seemed to possess no such interest in the Graviton Mauls that could batter armored troops and structures with ease, instead wishing to see the melee component of the machine replaced with more firepower since you could use a gun in close combat but you could not use a melee weapon at range...at least not a great range, as Jarn scoffed at how he was used to hurling his own
Eirlithriad at unsuspecting foes. That said he agreed with Tristan's assessment even if he did not abhor close combat, as Jarn utilized his
Peleneira wrist cannons to gun down foes at point blank range almost as often as he did at range while wading into combat.
What Tristan focused the most on was the Karceri shields, as despite their massive size making them impractical for deployment for standard infantry that did not deter the Neophyte from wishing to see them repurposed. The shields possessed their own power field to amplify their protective qualities, something which was amplified when in close proximity to one another and made them unstoppable juggernauts. What made the shields so bulky was their length being made to protect a giant battle automata, but if scaled down in size while retaining the same sized power field they could prove useful tools for protecting Astartes in Tristan's view, even going so far as to recommend altered ones that could be fastened to mechadendrites and servo-arms to provide a more flexible range of cover.
As they discussed the practicality and possibilities of Tristan's ideas Jarn found himself impressed, for while the Neophyte was not contemplating some new invention he had a mind well suited to recreating something in existence for and for altering it to fulfill his objectives. Tristan was not discovering some new technology, but his thoughts on how to better improve and utilize existing ones were prodigious for his age...making it all that much more unfortunate that he and Levente were at odds with one another, for whereas Levente had the mind to constantly adapt and could develop new technology it was Tristan who could make the most of whatever he was given to work with by intuitively understanding it.
Had he been born on a more modern world Tristan would have likely been sent to university at a young age, or if he was on a world with the Mechanicus either recruited into their ranks or executed for 'heresy'. As they went through the Iron Circle's specifications and information it was evident that Tristan was pleased by the machine's purely technological basis, not possessing a 'Machine Spirit' to muddy the waters and deter greater understanding of its functionality. The partly organic nature of many Machine Spirits was something the boy claimed to be disgusting not out of a dislike of flesh like the Iron Hands possessed, but rather because he found it unnerving to mix the two, a perspective which Jarn shared which was why their Legion had so many 'retired' Astartes who no longer participated in active duty due to their wounds rather than forcing them into Dreadnoughts to continue fighting on.
Given Tristan's aversion to Machine Spirits the Warsmith made sure to help his understanding of machinery without them while also cautioning the usage of such machinery without proper precautions: he did not explain the entire history of the Men of Iron who once threatened all of Humanity, but he gave the Neophyte enough of a background to understand that dabbling in such matters was never to be taken lightly. Fortunately Tristan's taciturn and risk-averse nature left little worry in Jarn, as the boy would rather slowly reach a perfect solution than rush and unnecessarily imperil his projects.
Jarn assisted Tristan in developing some vague concepts for a series of battle automata of his own, knowing that it would be long before they were fully realized but also willing to help his student begin taking the steps needed to reaching his goals. Using a simple naming structure, Tristan labeled the members of his project Alpha, Beta, Gamma, Delta, Epsilon, and Zeta with each possessing a different design philosophy to explore various avenues of battle constructs. Alpha, for example, was the test-subject and initial model that the others would be developed from rather than something to ever be fielded in battle itself. Designed to facilitate further development, it was what Tristan had begun development on already with a rough skeleton of the machine sketched out in his blueprints.
Coming after it was Beta, which was meant to be a well-rounded machine that mirrored the design of the original Iron Circle in functionality by mixing close ranged combat with ranged firepower. Its brother Gamma was similar in theoretical design and purpose albeit given a greater emphasis on accuracy and remote operation. Tristan's obvious favorite was Delta, being the fourth in the proposed series of machines, which would possess greater emphasis on protection protocols and defensive capabilities while possessing a completely ranged armament meant to mirror its creator's own interests. After it was the theoretical Epsilon which possessed a focus on speed and anti-vehicle armaments to destroy armored foes which may threaten its charge. Lastly was Zeta, which lacked almost any mobility because Tristan had decided to have it be a walking weapon platform of as many weapons as he could hypothetically arm it with.
All of these were figments of Tristan's imagination and were based on things he had observed in the Dodekatheon, but as Jarn helped him develop initial plans for the Alpha unit the Warsmith found himself continually pleased. This was the very purpose why he had given Tristan such resources, for even the greatest tree would never grow if it never received the water and nutrients it required.
When they reached a natural conclusion to the design process Jarn made sure to voice his approval, showing the appreciation and validation of his Neophyte that the Iron Warriors had once been so deprived of, "You continue to surpass my expectations. There is much still for you to learn, decades of study and work ahead of you, but I have little doubt that you will surpass me as well as the other members of my Dodekatheon in time."
Given Tristan's nature he was uncomfortable with such direct praise, being prideful yet awkward when actually having the skills he took pride in recognized. Like Jarn once upon a time he was uncomfortable being the center of attention, content instead to simply be a part of the scenery and do as he is bid rather than have a spotlight focused upon him.
"You are too modest, Warsmith," Tristan humbly responded, casting his gaze down to his blueprints since he was unable to bring himself to look up at the one making him feel such an awkward sensation.
Jarn shook his head, dismissing Tristan's attempt to deflect the praise granted to him, "I would not say it if it was not true. Others consider me a lesser Perturabo, and in some ways they are correct: I cannot truly hold a candle to the capabilities of our Primarch as my potential only goes so far. At your age I was nowhere near as skilled with mechanical matters, and while you have had blueprints to study so once did I too have them to study, and I came from a world far more technologically advanced than your own. Be proud of your talent, just as you are wary of your flaws."
Taking pride in your strengths and successes was important Jarn felt, just as it was important to acknowledge and either improve or work around one's shortcomings.
"Regarding your flaws, I have little doubt that if left to your own devices for centuries you would improve and build upon everything in this room, but you lack the personality for true innovation," Jarn admitted, saying something that Tristan had become aware of himself whether he fully realized it or not given the derivative ideas and designs he produced, "That is fine, however, because understanding all of the technology at our disposal and improving upon it can bring us forward. Much of the technological innovation Humanity is capable of has been accomplished at one point of time or another, and having someone who can learn from it all and in part replicate it will be more conducive to our success than if we instead possessed someone with bold yet unrealized concepts."
To think that a few years ago Tristan was naught but a small child ignorant to the greater universe beyond his small piece of it...he still had countless things to learn, but now he stood tall as a young man and was ready to begin facing that universe head on. There was so much more than war to the forty-first millennium, and Jarn hoped that his protégé would be able to survive the horrors which threatened to overcome the good that could be found.
"In that vein, is there any particular cause for this newfound fascination of yours with automata?"
Tristan was poor with eye contact already, so he continued to awkwardly avert his gaze from Jarn's as he instead began sketching out a picture of battlefield deployment showing a series of troops surrounding a set of artillery batteries, "Screening. Some battlefield positions are inherent sacrifices for tactical objectives and victory. Better sacrifice machines that can be rebuilt than sacrifice flesh and blood that cannot."
His reasoning earned Jarn's approval, as it mirrored Jarn's own thought process when he created his own automata, "It is for that reason that I constructed my own Iron Circle. I would not have my subordinates stand in the way of a lethal strike and I...that mindless heroism is for the Imperial Fists and their blind dogma. Loyalty is a virtue, but valuing their lives, our success, and our vision above something as fleeting as glory is how I expect my soldiers to exhibit their loyalty. Senseless sacrifice is unacceptable, that is the Iron Warrior way."
Even with the Iron Circle around Castiel served as an unofficial bodyguard to Jarn thanks to his background as a former knight of Caliban, though this was not something Jarn asked of the Fallen Angel nor required: Jarn typically could handle most threats on his own, and those he could not typically would fall to the might of the Iron Circle. That said he appreciated Castiel's fervor and loyalty, and treated him with trust in return for despite being 'Fallen' the former Dark Angel was a man of his word and would rather die than face further dishonor.
"My world possessed similar constructs. Golems they were known as. Made of materials beyond our understanding, and standing vigil over ruins and sites with no known value to us," Tristan added, helping further explain his interest in the general concept. His background had shaped who he was even today, keeping strong to his roots as a blacksmith's son and possessing the spirit of a noble knight even if it was often covered by his lack of amiability. It was a sort of comfort to Jarn to see as much, as it showed that even after becoming a member of the Adeptus Astartes that Tristan had retained some of who he had always been...something Jarn hoped was applicable to himself as well given how little he could remember of how he once lived.
"Wherever your pursuit leads you, always remember the difference between Abominable Intelligence and the Machine Spirit, as well as their variations."
"Self-improving artificial intelligence bad, stagnant capabilities artificial intelligence good," Tristan noted simply, intent on creating automata that would not threaten Humanity while also being wholly machine rather than partly organic. While simply a theory, he believed that it might help keep his creations from Chaos corruption if they lacked a Warp presence of any sort.
Jarn looked down a moment after when he realized Tristan had written something and held it out towards him on a scrap piece of paper, appearing to be a list of some sort from a cursory glance.
"And this is?"
"List of required technology for observation."
The Neophyte's response was so blunt that it could be construed as rude if Jarn did not know him better than that. To Tristan the terseness was simply a way of conveying the necessary information of a conversation without muddying it with flowery language or peripheral ideas, allowing him to get back to work faster and for whomever he was speaking with to do the same.
A more egotistical leader would see it as insolence from a subordinate, but Jarn in truth appreciated it and so looked over the things Tristan had requested.
Kastelan, Thanatar, Hunter-Killer, Domitar-Ferrum, Man of Iron...
Jarn grinned wryly, seeing that while his personal ambitions were minimal Tristan's technological ones had no real limits. He was asking for some mundane things as well as extraordinary ones rarely witnessed throughout the cosmos, and so Jarn could not actually ensure that what Tristan desired would become available to him. If the circumstances allowed for it however Jarn saw no issue providing these things Tristan had read about...so long as whatever surviving Man of Iron they obtained was escorted by a full squad of Astartes at all times even if the machine was disabled. Humanity had learned the hard way once the threat such intelligent life posed, and Jarn would not allow his forces to be the doom of their race just because of technological curiosity.
"I cannot promise that we will come across all of what you have listed, but I will make certain that what becomes available to us will be provided for the Dodekatheon."
Tristan was not the only one who could benefit from studying such specimens, so Jarn felt it only fair to offer the opportunity to their entire Dodekatheon to make the most of such an endeavor.
"Understood."
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(To be continued in part 2)
